


Dream a Little Dream for Me

by critterdee_67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot Twists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-09-30 00:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17213390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/critterdee_67/pseuds/critterdee_67
Summary: Dean and Cas are in an established relationship.They own one of the top motorcycle fabrication shops in the US, working with everyone from Mega Stars to 'the guy next door'. No job is too big or too small for their shop.The problem comes when Dean has a recurring nightmare that could have an effect on their reality.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Dean wakes too early; the sun is barely peeking through the curtains when the breeze catches them.

He rolls over and runs his hand up the curve of Cas’s side - hip to shoulder. Dean scoots closer and nuzzles into Cas’s neck, leaving sweet, gentle kisses, and whispers, “Mornin’ Babe.”

Cas tries to pretend to be still asleep, but Dean’s light touches on his side tickle. Cas grabs Dean’s hand and presses their hands together, flat against his ribs. Cas kisses the top of Dean’s head, “Mornin’” he replies. “What’s booked for today?”

Dean smiles up at him, how can anyone be so beautiful all sleep mussed, with pillow crease marks and hair sticking up in all directions? “The Leno bike is getting picked up, and there’s a new client coming in today.”

Cas stretches and gets up, wandering to the dresser, then the bathroom.

Dean lays there with his hands behind his head, watching Cas as less-than-gracefully shucks his sleeping pants, letting them drop to the floor when he walks to the bathroom. Dean laughs at his night-owl of a partner. Cas has never been a morning person. Dean hears the shower start and figures he had better get up as well, might even be able to get a little action if he’s nice to Cas in the shower. Cas constantly complains about Dean being too perky in the morning.

 

When Dean was a kid, he used to tell everyone that he was going to be a fireman when he grew up. But that was a child’s fantasy, and his life is even better than he could have dreamed.

Together, he and Cas run one of the top custom motorcycle shops in the state… the region… okay, in the nation, and the Euro circuit has been giving them some notice of late.

The big job they need to get out the door today is their third bike for Jay Leno. The man is an insatiable collector.

Dean and Cas enjoy the work they do and the people they get to work with on the more exclusive bikes. Not all their jobs are for rich superstars; they create jobs for regular people as well.

They get to the garage and Benny is already there, opening up the store side. Benny is one of Dean’s best mechanics and one of the few that he knows he can trust with keys to the shop and store.

Chuck pulls into the parking lot right after the other three enter the building. Chuck is the store manager and problem solver; the guys tend to call him Doc because he is a natural ‘fixer’ of all things customer related.

“Hey, Doc. Almost late again.” Dean chastises.

“Sorry, Boss. I could give you some excuse, but I won’t… if you’ll loan me, Benny, to figure out what's wrong with my truck.”

“You need to take that up with the big man himself, and it ain’t happening on company time.”

The day progresses with some craziness when Mr. Leno and his entourage, including a camera crew, come to pick up his new chopper. Of course, there’s an interview with Dean and Cas about how they pulled off their special magic to create such a superb machine. Dean is a natural and plays it up to the camera, all flirty and way too cute. Cas rolls his eyes when the woman doing the interview giggles and stands a little too close to Dean.

“Dean,” Cas takes Dean’s left hand in his own and twists the ring on Dean’s finger.

“Awe, Angel, you know they love it when I schmooze with the camera. All I talked about was you and your superior airbrush skills.” Dean leans in and kisses Cas on the cheek. “And I bragged on Benny’s magic with the electronics.” Dean rubs his hand up and down Cas’s arm, giving Cas his best pouty face. “Besides, as pretty as she was, she has all the wrong equipment.”

“Hey, guys.” Jay Leno walks up and claps Cas on the back of his shoulder. “Thanks again for the magnificent machine. I want to invite you and your team to the charity auction next month. That second bike you made me is up for auction, and I would love to have you there to boost the excitement and perhaps pry open those buyer’s accounts a bit wider. The JDM Foundation is supporting Equality Now with the majority of the proceeds, along with a few other humanitarian charities. Only that one bike will be up for auction, the first one and this one will be on display, which is why I think you guys need to be there.”

“Sounds great.” Dean smiles like a lunatic, still holding Cas’s hand.

“Oh, and Dean, maybe you shouldn’t flirt so hard in front of your husband.” Jay winks and claps him on the bicep before walking away laughing.

Cas barks out a laugh, “Aha - see! Even Jay Leno thinks you flirt too much, dumbass.”

Dean sticks his tongue out at Cas, “You love it.”

“Yeah, I do.” Cas slaps Dean’s ass and turns to walk back to the paint booth, and Dean heads back to the office. The new client is due shortly, so Dean needs to finish the paperwork on Leno’s transaction and gather everything for the new guy.

Dean’s desk phone rings, “Hey, Doc. What’s up?”

“You’re new client is here. Want me to have one of the clerks bring him over or do you want to come meet him?” Chuck asks, also hinting at how busy the store is and how it would be easier if Dean came to get the guy.

“Chill, Doc, I’ll be right down.”

Dean meets with the new client and calls Cas in for his view on the artistic section of the conversation. He never interviews a new client without Cas’s input. Once they have the overview and main ideas decided, they end the meeting and bid farewell to the client. The next steps take at least a couple of weeks as the team puts their heads together to come up with the perfect chopper for the new client.

Dean and his team draft a few samples and are in touch with the client often, and final decisions are made. Dean is the chief fabricator, and once they have a concrete plan, he begins with one of his favorite frames and begins his metalworking skills on the tank. The fabrication takes another couple of weeks before any painting can begin. Benny is working side by side with Dean as he spends his time building the engine. As much as Dean loves mechanical work, he is the best medalist in the shop, and he knows Benny can build an engine with his eyes closed.

Meanwhile, Cas is working on mock-ups for the art design for the new bike, as well as keeping up with the other paint jobs that are in the shop. He has to remind Dean to take breaks throughout the day, or the man will work straight through lunch. Cas knows that Dean becomes obsessed with whatever task he’s working on at any time. Sometimes it takes unorthodox methods to get his husband to put down his tools and stop long enough to eat.

Cas walks up to the stall where Dean and Benny are working, nodding to Benny and motioning for him to take a break - in other words, Benny doesn’t want to be in here for what’s about to happen.

Stepping up behind Dean, Cas puts his hand between his shoulder blades.

“Whoa, Ben, a little touchy there my man.” Dean quickly turns, grabbing Cas’s wrist. “Oh Jesus, Cas! I thought Benny had lost his mind or something.” Dean looks around, noticing that Benny is gone. “What’s up, Babe?”

“Lunchtime, Dean.”

“Yeah, I just need to get this piece…” Dean starts, but he’s cut off when Cas lens in and captures his lips, wrapping his hand around the back of Dean’s neck, fingers raking through the hairs on the back of Dean’s head. Cas presses Dean against the worktable, taking Dean’s hand in his free hand and placing it on his crotch, moaning and thrusting into Dean’s hand.

“Come up to the office, Dean. Let’s eat a bite then you can have this for dessert.” Cas breathes hotly into Dean’s mouth and moves Dean’s hand with his own along his hardening dick.

“Son of a bitch, Cas, you’re a fucking cheat.” Dean laces their fingers together and leads Cas upstairs to the office. He closes the blinds and locks the door behind them - a notice to the staff not to disturb. Neither of them cares if the employees know what they do behind that closed door, but they’d prefer that no one bursts in on them.

Cas is pleased that he does get Dean to eat his lunch before Dean begins unbuckling Cas’s belt.

Later that afternoon, Cas can begin the base coat on most of the larger sections of the new bike.

That evening after dinner, Dean is still ramped up and full of energy, which tends to happen when he’s focused on a big job. He’s talking nonstop and pacing while Cas washes the dishes. Dean has his sketchbook out and is busy making minute alterations to some of the final touches he wants for the bike - Cas is trying to watch the news and Dean keeps interrupting.

“Hey, this won’t mess up your idea on the rear fender will it?” Dean shows Cas his sketch.

“No, babe, that fits with the attitude of the bike.”

A few minutes later, “I dunno, Cas. Your paint job might be hidden if I add any more to the flair.”

“Then don’t.”

Dean refocuses on his drawing for a few more minutes. Long enough that the news finally ends and Cas gets up and walks out of the room, heading to the bathroom. Dean follows a few beats later, standing in the door, leaning on the frame with sketchbook in hand and a concerned look on his face. Cas finishes his business and rolls his eyes as Dean continues to prattle on about a minor detail that he will likely discard anyway.

“Brush your teeth and stuff, Dean.”

“K… hold this, will ya?” Dean hands Cas his sketchbook and pencil. Cas takes them to the living room and places it in Dean’s messenger bag, then heads to the bedroom.

Dean walks into the bedroom to find Cas already in bed.

“Where’s my book?”

“I put it away.” Cas answers and holds up the sheet, invitingly.

Dean sees Cas’s state of undress and immediately strips out of his shirt and shucks his jeans, dropping his boxer briefs on the floor as he crawls into bed.

“God, Cas. You sure know how to get my mind off work.”

“That’s the plan, beautiful. Now, grab the lube.”

Dean wakes up to the smell of smoke. He jumps out of bed and runs to the kitchen.

“Shit. Sorry, Dean. I burnt the first batch of pancakes. I got distracted.”

“Jesus,” Dean collapses into a chair at the table, “I thought the house was on fire.” Dean takes a deep breath and chokes, having a coughing fit. Cas brings him a glass of water.

Kneeling next to Dean, Cas rubs his back and looks up at him, “I’m so sorry, I know how much that messes with you, sweetheart. Why don’t you go back to bed, and I’ll get this all cleaned up and bring us some cereal in a few minutes?”

“Yeah, yeah, I think I will.” Dean trudges back to bed.

“Dean, wake up!” Cas shakes him, “Wake up!”

Dean wakes with a start, flailing and yelling.

“Babe, you were having a nightmare.” Cas hands him a glass of water. “Was it the same one?”

Dean nods, gulping the water.

“Yeah, there was this huge fire, and I was trapped, I couldn’t move like I was pinned under something. Cas, I could feel the heat.” He sits the glass on the side table and leans back on his pillow. “I’ve never been anywhere near a fire, why do I keep having this fucking nightmare?”

They both startle at the sound of the loud beeping of the smoke alarm in the kitchen.

“Dammit! I left the burner on!” Cas runs back to the kitchen.

Dean lays back on the bed, the constant beep, beep, beep of the smoke alarm sounding in his head.

* * *

 

Cas listens to the steady beep, beep, beep of the machines next to Dean’s bed. Heart monitors, breathing monitors, medication drips… so many wires and tubes. Dean looks fragile lying in the small hospital bed. Cas has just finished shaving Dean, and is combing his hair since it’s getting a bit long and is a mess after being washed while Dean is still lying in the bed. Cas is talking in a low tone, reminding Dean how much he is loved and missed, he talks about taking their motorcycles out for a trip upstate. Cas kisses Dean’s cheek. “I love you, Dean. I miss you so much, please wake up.” Cas clears his throat and wipes his hand down his face to erase the tears.

“Hey Doc,” he greets the shorter man walking into the room.  “Dean’s been flinching and gripping his fists again this morning. That’s a good sign, right?” Cas looks at the bandages on Dean’s arms. Dean’s suit protected him from the fire - mostly - but there are burns on his forearms and lower legs. The beam had fallen across his legs and broke the femur on his left leg and the tibia and fibula on his right. Even with the oxygen tank and full face mask, he has some lung damage from the smoke.

The shorter man, Dr. Chuck Shurley, walks over to Dean’s hospital bed and checks the monitors and does a few reflex tests. “Well, it’s not bad news, Castiel. Dean has been responding more favorably to treatment, but the only thing we can do is wait.”

“But Doc, will he wake up? I mean it’s been almost two months since the accident.”

“You know that’s entirely up to Dean. A coma is the bodies way of allowing the healing process to happen at the rate necessary. Once he does wake, it will still be a long recovery due to the damage to his legs.”

There is a knock at the door. Cas looks up from his seat next to Dean’s bed and sees his Sergeant, Bobby Singer, and Dean’s fellow firefighter, Benny Lafitte walking into the room.

“Castiel, how’s he doing today?” Bobby asks.

“Same, maybe better?”

“Dude, I..”

“Benny, man, you carried him out of that fire.” Cas takes a shaky breath, “I was two blocks away on crowd control. Please, understand that I’m grateful and there is never any reason to feel bad or responsible for what happened. We were all at that call. That old factory should have been destroyed years ago; it has been a disaster waiting to happen. Hell, all of us know the dangers of our chosen line of work. Firefighters and Police both live with the threat of injury or …  um, every day.”

“Cas, I was right there, I tried to pull him back, but, that beam fell so fast. Broke my arm when it hit me, but Dean… God. It took four other guys to lift the fucking thing, and…. I’m so glad he’s still alive.”

Cas smiles a sad smile. “Doc says that his brain scan shows that he’s in a sort of dream state, I hope it’s a happy dream. The way they talk about the scans, it appears that there are only peaks of anxiety, and most of the time he’s steady, with an activity present - so at least we know that his brain isn’t completely broke. I just really want him to wake up, I miss him so much.”

      


	2. After the Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When we last saw Cas and Dean, Dean was still in a coma from the accident.  
> What happens when Dean wakes up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not have finished this without the help of three very special people - you know who you are <3 <3 <3

Dean’s recovery is not going as quickly as he had hoped.  Frustrated, he knocks over the cup he was reaching for and spills its dice on the table. He growls and hits the cup with the back of his hand, and it flies off the table, rolling across the floor. Everything is irritating him today. Waking up, still in the hospital, started his day off with him feeling grumpy. He wants to be home with Cas, to wake up next to the man he loves, not alone in a cold hospital bed in a room all to himself. Some days aren’t so bad, he doesn’t dislike his physical therapist but some days are just so much more emotional than others. Today feels like a landmark and harsh reminder. It’s the beginning of the fourth week since he awoke from the coma. Cas was there with him when he first woke and stayed day and night for the first two weeks, until he had to go back to work. Although Dean was grateful he'd stayed that long, he wished he'd could have stayed longer, or better yet - taken him home with him. 

“Well, you were meant to pour out the dice anyway. Why get so angry?” The physical therapist asks. “If I didn’t think you’d fall on your face, I’d make you pick it up. Stop being so crabby and try putting the dice back into the cup.” She places the empty cup back on the table in front of Dean.

He looks up and gives her a little snarl. “Look, Jo, I’m tired. Can’t we end this shit for today?”

She crosses her arms over her chest and gives him a stern look. “Sure, just as soon as you put all the dice back in the cup.”

Dean grumbles as he makes his first attempt to grasp one of the die with his right hand.

The burns on his forearms and wrists make it hard to control the fine motor skills of his hands. His left hand is more damaged than his right, but luckily he’s right-handed. Still, he has trouble gripping things with either hand. The skin is tight due to the skin grafts he received, and there is a small degree of damage to the nerves.

Jo points to one of the dice. “Try picking this one up with your right hand, Dean.”

He frowns in concentration and reaches out, grimacing at the pull on the skin of his forearm. He picks up the little red die and drops it into the cup. He’s pissed that it is taking so much effort to do something so small, but at the same time, he’s happy that he finally is able to grip the small items. It had been an alarming reality to wake up and discover the extent of the damage to his body. His hands had been wrapped, and at first, he thought he was paralyzed, which had been a terrifying moment; until he was informed that he had suffered two broken legs, which would heal in time. He had no idea that learning to use his hands again would be a far more significant challenge. 

“Now pick up one with your left.” Instructed Jo, patiently.

Dean chooses one closer to him, his hand shakes as he focuses on pinching his fingers together around the small item. He gets ahold of the die between his thumb and middle finger, lifting it up and over to the cup. Finally, with a bead of sweat on his forehead, he drops it into the plastic cup. He sits back, breathing as though he’d climbed a flight of stairs in full gear. It is a strange thing - to feel both proud and frustrated by something. He’s pleased that he'd done it, but frustrated by how difficult it was to do something that before, he'd never have even given thought to... He wonders how he could have taken so much for granted before... He hopes he'll never forget to be grateful again for everything he can do, everything he has.

“Way to go!” Jo praises. “Only three more. Do the next one with your right. See, that’s easier, huh?”

It takes another ten minutes for Dean to pick up the last of the dice and put them in the cup. At one point he tips over the cup when his left hand bumps it, but Jo is kind enough to put the first few dice back into the cup once Dean sits it upright. Lots of grumbling and swearing later, Dean has completed the task and is ready to head back to his room.   ***

“Tomorrow is a leg day.” Jo smiles as the aide wheels Dean back to his room.

“Great!” Dean sasses and gives her a small smile on his way out.

He gets to his room and onto his bed, dropping his head back against his pillow and before he realizes, he falls asleep -  exhausted both physically and emotionally from his therapy session. Dean hates being so fragile; he’s never had to depend on others for so much in his life. Granted the accident was severe and he’s only been awake from a coma for a month. Still, he expected to have more control over his own body by now. 

Control over his mind was the first hurdle. When he first woke up, he was very confused. He kept asking Cas about the motorcycle shop and who was running things while he was away. It took several days for Dean to realize that the bike shop was a dream, not his reality, and that the men he called friends were his fellow firefighters. Cas stayed with him those first weeks, never allowing him to be left alone in his room. Cas wouldn’t even step out for a bite unless one of the other guys was there, or more typically they brought him something to eat. 

When Dean woke up, the first thing he wanted to know was where Cas was and if he was alright. 

Later that evening, Castiel arrives to visit his husband as the nurse is delivering Dean’s dinner. He is still in his police uniform which elicits a huge smile from Dean.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas greets as he sets his duffle bag on the chair.

“Hey, handsome. You came straight from work?”

“It’s okay; I brought a change of clothes.”

“Oh, Babe, you know I don’t mind you in your uniform.” Dean gives him a sly smile, then his face changes to something more serious, “Cas, you need to get some rest, too.”

Cas kisses Dean on the forehead as he unbuttons his uniform shirt. “I’m fine.” With a sigh, he removes his shirt and bulletproof vest. “Feels good to get that thing off.” He smiles, heading to the bathroom to finish changing, just in case a nurse or someone walks in. Moments later he comes out in jeans and a t-shirt and places the bag he was carrying on the floor. He sits on the chair next to Dean’s bed and attaches the lock on his gun before putting it in the bag with the rest of his gear.

“What’s for dinner?” Cas asks glancing at Dean’s dinner tray with interest. 

“Looks like meatloaf and green beans.” Dean’s right-hand shakes as he tries to pick up his fork. He finally grips the utensil toddler style and stabs his food.

“Good thing the accident didn’t interfere with your impeccable table manners.” Cas laughs.

“Oh, ha ha, smartass.” Dean rolls his eyes at Cas. His hand trembles and he drops the bite of meatloaf twice before he gets it to his mouth.  He really wants to throw the whole tray across the room, but he’s starving, so he eyes Cas pitifully.

“I’m not helping you unless you actually ask. Those puppy eyes aren’t gonna get you anything.” Cas tells him.

“Cas, will you  _ please  _ help me eat this shit before I starve to death?”

“Sure, sweetheart, because you asked so nicely.” Cas gushes in an overly sweet tone. He takes the fork from Dean’s tight grip and cuts a bite for him.

“Thanks, Babe. I promise I’ll get better at this shit… but you have no idea how exhausting it is just to hold a damn fork and try to get the food from the plate to my mouth. It’s worse than putting the fuckin’ dice in the cup.”

“Oh, Dean. I have no concern that you will accomplish the task of feeding yourself.” Cas winks at him.

“Well, food is one of my favorite things.” Dean smiles and leans forward kissing Cas’s cheek.

Six months after Dean’s injury - and three and a half months after he woke from a coma; Dean is going home from rehab. Cas is just as excited as Dean; they’re both thrilled that Dean is finally being released from the rehab center. Other than crazy work shifts, this has been the longest they’ve been apart and neither has liked it one bit. 

Dean is still walking with crutches but can get around short distances without them. The physical therapy has gone much better for his legs than that for his hands because the scars from the burns make things much harder when it comes to using his hands. He has regained most of the use of his right hand and about 80% of his left, but he still has tremors and difficulty with his grip and fine motor skills. For the next several months, Dean will have physical and occupational therapy sessions twice a week and see a psychologist once every two weeks. Even though he will be at home, he still has a long way to go with his overall mobility, and he needs to continue to enhance his fine motor functions.

Cas has been able to arrange his work schedule to coordinate with Dean’s therapy sessions. Cas has also taken to cooking more of their meals; something Dean has always loved to do. Dean tries to help and usually ends up doing whatever he can while seated, letting Cas do the actual cooking.  

“Hey, Cas.” Dean comes into the kitchen and sits at the table while Cas cooks dinner.

“Hey!” Cas smiles.

“I, uh, I had that dream again. The one where we run a motorcycle shop.”

“I swear if you’re dreaming about Jay Leno again…” Cas laughs and pokes Dean with the wooden spoon.

“No - jealous much?” Dean teases, “No, but I’ve been giving it some thought.” Dean fiddles with his crutch handle, “These injuries …”

“Dean, it’s still early in your healing…”

“I know, I know. But listen, I don’t want to sit on my ass at some desk job, or work dispatch until I retire - that’d be torture.”

“Can we please talk about this later? You keep getting better every day. You barely have to use the crutches in the house now. Let’s just stay positive, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean rests his head on his hand and leans on the table, resigned to have the discussion at a later time. He knows that Cas has been going through his own hard times since the accident and he doesn’t want to push him just yet. 

Cas can’t help but tease Dean a little for not being able to climb into his truck. However, Dean laughs it off because that just means that they get to drive around in the 1967 Chevy Impala that he and Cas rebuilt together from the chassis up. They both love that car, but Cas knows that it’s really Dean’s baby. Dean’s other baby is sitting - covered - in the garage, a black on black Harley Davidson Road King. Cas has a matching black and chrome Road King which is parked next to Dean’s. Cas’s police Harley sits next to them. There’s no room in the garage for cars; it's all bikes and tools.

“Cas, I’m sorry you have to drive me around all the time. I know you’d rather be on the bike… I’d rather be riding, too. The weather has been perfect this past week.”

“How else would you get to therapy or to doctor's appointments? Idjit, of course, I’m going to drive you.” Cas looks over at Dean and smiles, “Besides, I’m on a bike all day for work.”

Dean chuckles, “Yeah, guess that’s true.”

They arrive at the PT office, and Dean sags in the seat and frowns. “These guys have no mercy.” He whines as he gets out of the car and grabs his crutches from the backseat. He mostly uses them now for safety because he still tends to stumble, and the crutches keep him from falling. However, he really doesn’t like using them because they make his hands hurt, so he tries not to put much pressure on them.

Today is an occupational therapy day, which Dean hates more than regular PT. He’s used to pushing his body to be fit and strong, so the PT is almost like going to the gym to him. He doesn’t mind being a bit sore after a PT workout. But, OT pisses him off to no end. There are so many simple things he can’t do that he never gave any thought to before; like pouring a cup of coffee or tying his shoes. Even getting dressed causes problems, things like buttons and zippers are difficult for him to manage. At home, he wears t-shirts and sweatpants, but when they go out, and he has to put on jeans, Cas has to help him. (Which can sometimes cause more of a distraction than actually helping him get dressed.)  They were nearly late today because Dean walked into the bedroom pulling his t-shirt over his head and with his jeans unfastened. He was just about to ask Cas to help him with his zipper when he felt Cas’s hand cup his crotch, Dean swallowed as he watched Cas’s heated gaze slide up from the front of his pants where the zip was now neatly in place, to his face, gazing past to his collar which Dean hopes hides the hickey Cas left there earlier. 

The only thing about OT that Dean likes, even though some may think it’s childish, is coloring. He has always enjoyed art of all kinds, and he doesn’t even care if the pages are of teddy bears and zoo animals. When he’s coloring, he can focus on using his right hand properly and stretch and flex his left. No one judges his skill level, only that he’s holding the markers or crayons correctly. The first couple of months he still held writing tools in his fist like a toddler because his fingers weren’t working well. Now, at least with his right hand, he can hold a pen almost like he always did before. His left was always his weaker hand, but the injury has made it much more pronounced. When he tries to hold things in his left hand, he still shakes and often drops or spills what he’s trying to hold.

At the beginning of his therapy, Cas bought him a cute little Minion shaped stress ball to squeeze and to help him regain strength and control of that left hand. Dean takes his Minion with him everywhere, and even the act of holding it is helping him work on control. Dean would never admit to anyone - other than Cas - that he loves those movies and that Steve is his favorite Minion.

Dean has been home from rehab for two months when Cas comes home from work to find him sitting at the workbench in the garage. Cas stares at him in disbelief.

“I got bored,” Dean states as if that would answer all the questions written on Cas’s face.

“So you dismantled the lawnmower?” Cas deadpans, looking at the parts strewn over the workbench. 

“Well, there’s nothing good on TV and … well, this is a form of OT, right?”

Cas sits on the stool next to Dean, and for nearly a full minute he just stares between the lawnmower parts and Dean. Then he bursts out laughing. “I love you so much, you weirdo. Now, come inside and clean up so you can help me with dinner. Looks like you have a good task to keep you busy tomorrow.”

Dean smiles and follows Cas into the house. “It’s gonna be as good as new when I’m done.”

Cas changes out of his uniform while Dean takes a shower.

Dean comes into the kitchen wearing only a pair of basketball shorts. “I’m all clean, now.” He says as he wraps his arms, still warm from his shower, around Cas’s waist from the back, crossing his hands over his stomach and kissing him on the neck.

“Keep that up, and you won’t be,” Cas smirks and turns around in Dean’s arms to face him. Cas takes in Dean’s minimal clothing and brings his hands up Dean’s sides, tracing his torso up to his chest. “God, you look good enough to eat.”

Dean leans forward and captures Cas’s mouth in a needy kiss, lowering his hands and pulling Cas in closer, he grinds their hips together as the kiss heats up.

“Cas, have you started dinner?” Asks Dean breathlessly.

“No.”

“Good. Let’s take this to the bedroom. I need you in me, like now.”

It takes Dean two days to get the lawnmower put back together. Dean had replaced a few of the older bolts and cleaned all the parts inside, removing old dry mud and grass. They had tested it, and it ran beautifully, like new. 

When he tells his OT and PT teams about his progress with the lawnmower, they are all impressed. Cas is too, but he’s mostly thrilled to have the lawnmower back in working condition.

“I told you I could do it.” Dean brags to Alan, his psychologist. “The worst part of it all was my weak grip with my left hand. I still have trouble grasping and holding things, especially small items like bolts or washers.

Alan listens as Dean describes his difficulties and achievements with taking apart and putting the lawnmower back together. He could hear the pride in Dean’s voice as he spoke. 

“I think you deserve to be proud of this endeavor. You gave yourself quite a large task to achieve, and you did it. I also know who to talk to now, if my lawnmower ever gives me any trouble.” Alan chuckles and Dean smiles. “Have you been able to talk to Cas about your idea of opening a small engine repair shop?”

“Well, I’ve tried a few times, but I think he thinks I’m giving up on the hope of ever being a firefighter again, which is kind of true.” Dean admits “I know that at this point I wouldn’t be able to pass the physical. I’m … _ I think _ I’m okay with not going back. There’s a lot I’d miss - the action, my brothers … but the idea of working dispatch still feels like such a step-down. I’m afraid I’d hate sitting there while my team goes out to handle the calls.”

“Do you think you could do the dispatch job while you continue to heal? Maybe give it a year, see if you’re ready for the physical at that time?” Alan points out, “You’ve made great strides in your recovery already, who knows where you’ll be a year from now.”

Dean contemplates the idea. “What if I did both? I could start building the repair shop business while I’m still working dispatch at the station. I’ll be doing the repair work from the house until I have enough business to get an actual shop, anyway.”

“Perhaps that’s a better way to bring the idea to Cas.” Alan agrees.

“The weird thing is that opening a mechanics shop is something we used to talk about. When we retired, we wanted to open a bike shop or something. Now that I want to do it for real, Cas acts like he’s against the idea or afraid or something.”

“Dean, you have to remember that Cas has also gone through quite an emotional ordeal with your injury. You missed a lot during the two months you were in a coma. Cas had to bear the pressure of you possibly never waking. In addition to that, there were many uncertainties regarding your mental and physical recovery.”

“He doesn't talk much about that time. I've told him about the dreams I had and still have.” Dean looks off in the distance as he thinks about the vivid dreams he has that almost feel like real memories. He recounts some of the finer points of the dreams.

“So, Cas and I own one of the top custom motorcycle shops in the region. I’m the head mechanic, and Cas is the artist.” Dean laughs a little, “Not sure why I always had him as our custom painter; he’s as good of a mechanic as I am. We rebuilt the Impala together. Plus, he built a couple of dirt bikes a few years ago. Anyway, the recurring dream of us owning a motorcycle shops feels so real. I’m pretty sure that’s where I lived while I was in the coma.”

“And you’ve told Cas about this?” Asks Alan.

“Yeah. When I first woke up, I was confused. I kept getting the dream mixed up with reality.”

“I remember,” Alan interjects.

“It's so weird, Alan. In my dream, I was the boss. I handled the metal work on some sweet choppers as well as being the head mechanic. Cas put the finishing touches on the bikes and made them look beautiful. Benny, from my team at the station, was my lead mechanic and Doctor Shirley ran the front store. It sounds like the Wizard of Oz or Alice in Wonderland, huh. All these people in my real life had roles in my dream world.”

“Dean, that was your brain’s way of handling the coma and keeping busy. Your body needed time to heal from the trauma and your mind needed a place to retreat. I’m not an expert on what happens during a coma, but it appears that whatever you went through was healthy enough to give your body time to heal. If you had to step through the looking glass to keep your brain active, so be it - it worked.”

One year after the accident…

Dean is settling in at his job in dispatch at the station. It’s not as bad as he thought it would be. He does miss the thrill of going out on a call, but he still feels a part of the team. Cas had tried not to push Dean toward the dispatch job, but he really wanted Dean to be happy doing what he could do while he was still healing.

Dean’s little side business of working on small engines and even a few motorcycles is going well, and he couldn’t be happier about that. He doesn’t mind working on cars for friends when necessary, but his love is the intricacies of motorcycles. The task of working on lawn mowers and other things sped up the improvement of his dexterity. Now he has near full use of both hands with minor numbness and a slight tremor in his left hand - usually when he’s tired.  

During the six months Dean has been home from rehab, Dean and Cas have both been in individual therapy and as well as couples therapy. The sessions have helped tremendously, giving them both the outlet and support they needed. It has also helped them recover some of the closeness in their relationship. For a while, when Dean was at the beginning of his recovery and Cas was acting as a caregiver, their marital relations had begun to suffer. They fought more than usual, and both were on edge most of the time. Things are much better now. Dean is also able to drive again, and that has helped his, and Cas’s, mood because Dean no longer feels like an invalid or a burden.

On this particular day, Dean is sitting at his desk in dispatch when his cell phone rings. At first, he assumes it’s Cas and answers it without looking at the caller ID.  “Hello.”

“Dean? Dean Winchester?” the man on the phone asks.

“Yes, this is Dean Winchester, and you are?”

“Dean, this is Gabriel Milton of Milton’s Custom Motorcycles. I received your resume and have heard nothing but good things when speaking with your customers and references. I'd like for you to come in for an interview.”

Dean stared at his phone in shock. He’d sent his resume to several of the local bike shops, and Milton’s happens to be the cream of the crop. It is exactly the type of shop that Dean has dreamed about. He checks the number to make sure it's not one of his buddies playing a trick on him, and the number is for real. This is actually the owner of Milton’s calling him. Dean realizes he has to answer the man.

“Thank you, Mr. Milton, really - this is. Thank you. I, um, did you have a date in mind for the interview? I can check my calendar now.” Dean opens the schedule on his second monitor.  _ ‘Shit, I can’t wait to tell Cas. _ ’ He thinks.

“Please, call me Gabriel.”

They discuss their availability for the interview and make arrangements.  Dean is so excited for the rest of his shift that it bleeds through into when he is dispatching the few calls that come in for the team. One of the other dispatchers comments that he seems overly happy about sending out them out on calls.

Deans shift ends earlier than Cas’s, and when he gets home he has time to shower and change before he makes dinner, so it’s ready for when Cas comes home. Dean doesn’t mind cooking, and tonight he makes Cas’s favorite, spicy chicken stir fry. Just as Dean is throwing in the vegetables, Cas walks in the front door.

“Oh my God, Dean, that smells like heaven. I’m starving. I was chasing some fucking shoplifter and completely missed my lunch.” He walks into the kitchen and wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, smirking as he says “Thank you so much for fixing my dinner, sweetheart… But what are you having?”

“You’re just lucky I love you, or else we’d be having a five-dollar pizza from that place on the corner.”  Dean laughs and teases Cas, knowing he hates the pizza place Dean’s referring to.

Cas’s radio chatters and he rolls his eyes and turns it off. “Sorry, I forgot to turn it off before I came in.”

Dean gives him a kiss, “Go change and hurry back so we can eat. I have some interesting news.”

Castiel looks curiously at Dean, before nodding and going to get changed. 

Dean has the plates dished up and on the table when Cas comes back from the bedroom. He sits at the table, slightly nervously eyeing Cas as he enters the room.

“Okay, so you’ve made my favorite meal, and you look nervous… what gives?” Cas asks as he sits across from Dean.

“You know that I’ve sent out my resume to all the bike shops around here.” Dean states, “Well I got a callback today.” He tries to hold back some of his excitement, failing drastically.

“Dean, that’s great news! Who called? Which shop?”

“You’re not going to believe me. I didn’t believe it. I swear I was in shock. Cas, Babe it's the best news I could have hoped for.” 

Cas smiles at Dean waiting for him to spit out the news. “Well? Tell me.” 

“I received a personal call from none other than Gabriel Martin himself! He wants me to come in for an interview!”

Cas leaps up and rounds the table taking Dean in his arms, “Oh, Dean, that’s amazing!” He pulls Dean to his feet so he can embrace him and give him a much-deserved kiss. 

Over dinner, they both talk excitedly about the possibilities of Dean working at Milton’s Custom Motorcycles.  After dinner, they lay on the couch together, Dean practically in Cas’s lap, and attempt to watch a movie, but Dean is too hyped, and Cas finally calms him down by flipping their position and lying on top of Dean as they make out before eventually moving to the bedroom to finish what they started. 

Laying in bed, Dean sleeps soundly while Castiel holds him close, carding his fingers through his hair. Cas is happy for Dean’s impending interview, but he wonders how Dean will take it if he doesn’t get the job? How will he take it if he does and it turns out to be nothing like his dream of working in a high-end shop? Cas wraps his arm around Dean and takes his hand in his own squeezing it as he falls asleep praying that Dean won’t have to suffer the loss of another dream job.

  
  



End file.
